Read Poems by Joyce Faure

  

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The Fruit Of The Womb

Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that built it except the Lord keep the city, the watchman walked in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrow for so he giveth his beloved sleep

Lo, children are an heritage and the fruit of the womb is his reward
As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man
So are children of the youth

Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them they shall  not be ashamed but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate
This was said in the beginning God bless the babies! The fruit of the womb is the reward!

Copyright © Joyce Faure | Year Posted 2024